Survival
by Katharra
Summary: A plane crash in the jungle renders the X-Men powerless.
1. Default Chapter Title

"57 channels an' nothin' on." Remy Lebeau flipped aimlessly through the channels, searching for something that would perk his interest. The other inhabitants in the room seemed as disinterested as the one holding the remote. Though hot for a fall Sunday, no one took to the outdoors, all preferring the lazy couch potato way. Everyone had a bored, almost lethargic look on his or her faces. While Remy impatiently punched the remote, Rogue twirled her chestnut hair, staring at the curly lock, as if hypnotized. Bobby threw a quarter in the air, catching it in his left hand, throwing it with his right hand and back again. Hank McCoy rested his head in his furry blue hand, seconds away from a mid-afternoon snooze. Bishop just sat in his chair, arms crossed against his massive chest, his face utterly void of emotion. Logan stood in a corner, a cowboy hat covering his eyes, a warm beer cradled in his hand. No one said a word; they let their actions speak for them, which evidently said nothing at all.

Scott Summers strolled into the room, glancing at the constantly switching television, then clearing his throat so all eyes were on him. Beast's head snapped up, as did Rogue's. "Come down to the war room everyone. I think we may have a problem."

The screen flickered with images of lush jungles, exotic birds, and natives with intricate paintings decorating their faces. The screen took a much darker tone as it then showed the jungle in flames, animals fleeing for their lives, and sick, dying natives spewed across the jungle floor. Large men in army fatigues confidently strolled through the jungle, hacking down anything in their way. Bulldozers relentlessly tore down and built up, shaping the earth to its every needs.

"Y'all know I'm up for anything, but isn't this something World Wildlife Foundation usually takes on?"

"I know this isn't quite what we're used to Rogue," the Professor reasoned, "but there's reason to believe that someone may have an unnatural interest in this land."

Iceman scratched his chin, "Someone being….?"

"Sinister."

The room took an odd hush as everyone absorbed this new information in their own way. Some felt anger, others felt fear, some seemed to sigh in exhaustion, but everyone was suspicious. Sinister's name was never met with indifference.

"Charles, who sent us this information?" Jane asked. "I mean, are they trustworthy?"

"Although I can't ascertain the individual's honesty, the fact remains that this is an act of terrorism, and we need to act quickly, otherwise there may not be much to save."

"What do you think he's up to?" Scott questioned.

"At this point we can't be sure, but we need to investigate. After all, if we can prevent it now we may not have to fight it later."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

The Blackbird's engines came to life with a roar that seemed to shake the room. Team One, which consisted of Cyclops, Phoenix, Bishop, Beast, Rogue, and Gambit took their seats with an almost uncertain air about them. It was similar to flying into a thick fog; no sense of direction, safety, expecting something wrong will arise at any second. It was difficult to look relaxed and calm, knowing that nothing was guaranteed, not even your life. And with Sinister being the man in question, it was certain that some sort of action was expected.

As Scott and Hank seated themselves at the cockpit, Jean took her seat directly behind them. Although they remained as professional as possible in times like these, there was a closeness to them that was apparent to the naked eye. Small gestures that don't look like much revealed a world of intimacy to each other. Their love had been put to the test more than once, but somehow they managed to hang on and keep the faith, in love, and in each other. Nothing could keep them apart or make them stop believing in one another.

Rogue and Gambit sat next to each other, occasionally smirking in the other's direction. Although their love was a complete opposite from Scott and Jean's, it could not be denied that the emotions between them ran deep. Rogue could never feel as close to anyone as she could with Remy. As infuriating as he could be, the man had touched her heart unlike anyone ever had. She was hopelessly in love with him, which at times could be somewhat of a hindrance. Remy on the other hand had experienced what it was like to love someone enough to marry her, and then to have to give it all up. Remy would always love Belladonna, nothing could change that. But that was then, and this is now, and Rogue had stolen his heart. There was so much to love about her it was hard to know where to start. She was strong, physically and emotionally. She'd already been through what most people would never even get a glimpse of. She was wild and crazy, sensitive and cuddly, and someone he could roughhouse with—which wasn't easy to find in a woman these days, what with all the woman's lib. No, Rogue was a true southern woman through and through.

Bishop was a man of few words, but that didn't mean he wasn't constantly thinking. Sometimes, though rarely, he even thought about things unrelated to the battle- ground. Things such as "What does 'whazzzzzuuuuppp'mean?" There were many mysteries of the 21st century that boggled his mind, things that people often take for granted but he found fascinating. There were many things he wished to learn about everyday life, but his priorities were set. His loyalty to the X-men was one that could never be mistaken.

As the Blackbird cut across the sky like a bullet, everyone's heart seemed to quicken a pace. The world below was nothing more than a miniature landscape, and as far as their problems should have been, they appeared to be closer. It would not be long before their mission was accounted for. 

"We've got a lock on their current flight pattern, Charles." Storm spoke in her usual calm, all the more adding to her grace and elegant manner.

Charles scratched his chin. "What's their E.T.A.?"

"Should be an hour and a half, if all goes well."

"An' since when has it ever gone well, Ororo?" Wolverine had a pessimistic smirk on his face. "Poor fools don't even know what they're getting into." 

"That would be why you're here Wolverine. Just in case anything does go wrong, you can save them." Charles had an odd grin on his face. It wasn't very often that the professor gave into joking with the Canuck.

Marrow sat on the edge of a desk, leg draped leisurely over the side, while picking at her nails. "So we just get to sit here, till what? Kingdom come?"

"Just because you're not on that flight, doesn't mean you're not a crucial part of the mission. Often, the greatest enemy is the one you can't see, and don't expect."

Ororo and Logan knew that the professor meant his words, and that they were to be taken seriously. Charles was constantly thinking, as masterminds often do. While evil was hatching plans, Charles was predicting every possible outcome, trying to stay one step ahead of everyone else. Sometimes he was right, sometimes not. Sometimes he didn't even play by the game, but made up his own rules. Whatever the ends may be, he would be damned if he went without a fight; something he instilled in all his pupils, new and old. 

"Look alive everyone. Only a half hour till we're there." Scott announced to his team.

The green canopy of the Brazilian rain forest was now in sight under a thick veil of clouds through which the Blackbird sliced. The Beast gazed at the greenery with a dreamy appearance, as though it was his first forest he'd ever seen. "Oh, would this be an interior decorator's fantasy for dear old Storm."

Jean smiled at the thought of Storm transplanting the rain forest to her very own room. It was no secret the lovely Ororo adored to be surrounded by plants and their calming effects. How Jean desired to make her friends dream come true and give her every splendor of the mighty rainforest.

"With all this bush Scott, it may be difficult to land the Blackbird anywhere close." Hank reasoned.

"I was just considering that Hank. What we might have to do is set the Blackbird for autopilot and parachute in. Well, most of us anyway." Scott said, referring to Jean and Rogue who could use their powers to fly in. "Gambit and Bishop,' Scott shouted, 'go and grab the parachutes from the storage compartment."

"What, we gonna jump it?" Remy asked.

"What's the matter Cajun? You scared of a little jump?" Rogue teased.

"Remy not scared o' anyting, long as dere be a prize at de end o' de line." He said with a devilish grin. And with that, he and Bishop made a start for the back of the plane.

"Does anyone else get a funny feeling about this, or is it just me?" Bobby asked. Team two was starting to get cabin fever, waiting for anything to occur that would warrant a rescue mission.

"It's just you Ice Boy." Retorted Marrow. Ever the queen of cynicism, Marrow was not about to leave an opportunity to take a shot at Bobby unattended for.

"Keep it down you two, they're just about there." Wolverine stared at the screen in anticipation.

"Charles, we've received word from Scott; he plans to have the team parachute in. He says the forest is too dense to land in." Ororo informed.

Charles nodded in agreement. "I had a feeling that something like this may occur. Make sure we don't lose contact." The professor had an uneasy instinct, one that often did happen anytime the team went out, but he could not deny that today's particular butterflies were more active than usual. Maybe it was the fact that he considered some of these heroes to be the closest things he had to children, or maybe it was just that morning's eggs benedict coming back to haunt him. Whatever the reason, he didn't like it.

"Well maybe if you look in de right place you have better luck, non?" Gambit was having a good time watching Bishop's increasing frustration in looking for the parachute packs. "Or maybe dey just leave dem at home. What you tink?"

"Maybe yours LeBeau," growled Bishop, "but not mine. Ah, there they are."

As Bishop was reaching for the packs, the floor took a violent shake, rattling the door hinges and dropping some of the equipment out of the compartments. Bishop and Gambit looked up at each other, and the smirk that was once all over Remy's face had now turned into a serious frown.

"You tink dat be bad?" He asked.

"Well it didn't exactly feel good." Deadpanned Bishop. "Let's grab the packs and get out of here."

The two made a move for the back, but were suddenly thrown against the wall. The plane began shaking uniformly. Slowly bags and boxes were being dislodged from their settings and pelting Bishop and Gambit as they made futile attempts to stand. Just then, the door slammed, and the lights took a final bow.

"I can't get loose of it!" Exclaimed Scott. "Beast give me all the power you can, we're caught in some sort of tractor beam."

"You're getting all the power you've got, oh fearless one, but they've got us good."

Jean was struggling to make her way around the interior, but it took all of her strength just to remain standing. "Scott, I'm going to radio home!" With all the rattling and the straining engines, talking was increased to a near scream.

The world was starting to look like a ninety-degree angle, as the Blackbird's nose headed straight towards the earth below. The Beast and Cyclops were panicking, trying to steer the jet as much as they could, but their efforts were beginning to fail.

"We're going down people, hang on!" Scott shouted.

"Remy!" Rogue screamed, knowing that her love was trapped in the back.

"Rogue, hang on!" Jean yelled, attempting to restrain her friend in the seat. She turned to the window where leaves battered the glass and the world abruptly turned to black.

"Professor we've lost them!" Ororo was urgent in her cry. "I've only got a partial transmission from Jean, she said that they were going down. I can't get a lock on them."

The room had suddenly taken on life, as everyone frantically searched all available consuls. Iceman lunged for the nearest headset, fiddled with the channels trying to locate some sort of radio signal but receiving nothing more than static. He grimaced in frustration but continued to search the dials.

Wolverine had an angered, almost perplexed look on his face. He had a bad feeling about this mission from the start, and this newest development only furthered his suspicions. Sinister always had something up his sleeve, and this time his teammates may have walked right into his trap. A slow, feral growl rumbled deep in his throat, while helplessly watching the map.

The Professor sat unemotional, a million thoughts and emotions circled his brain all at once, fighting to make sense of it all. But never once did he allow this inner turmoil show its ugly face to the rest of his students. Charles would remain calm, despite all other hope; he would not let his students lose theirs.

Smoke billowed from the back of the plane, slowly slinking into the interior, sucking out the oxygen as best it could. Scott hacked a deep rattling cough that came from the depths of his lungs. He raised his head cautiously off the consul, fearing that the thudding in his brain might just explode and take him with it. Fighting the nausea that threatened to overtake him, he opened his eyes and stared at the bushes pushed through the shattered window, only inches from his face. A thought ran through his brain at light speed. "Jean!" He shouted.

A feminine moan signaled her awake behind him. Rubbing an ever-growing knot on her forehead, she pushed her fire red hair off her face, and forced herself to take in her surroundings. Seeing her husbands concern, she let a tiny smile creep to her face. "I'm okay Scott."

Cyclops knelt on one knee, inspecting her forehead and studying her emerald eyes. Behind him, the Beast punched buttons on the consul, praying for any sort of life within the Blackbird, but sighed in resignation when no response came. "Damn, damn, damn." He muttered underneath his breath.

"Stupid plane…." Came a disgusted southern accent. Rogue shook her auburn hair, and stared wildly about her.

"You okay Rogue?" Scott asked.

Rogue put one hand to her temple. "Ah think ma brain's swimming in there." She suddenly leapt from her seat. "Remy!"

Her three companions also looked up with fear written on their faces. 

A strapping young man strode into the command center, his black uniform nearly covering every inch on his body. He stood directly in line with the giant man before him. He would be lying if he said that this particular man didn't make his soul shake with fear. But what could he do? The pay was good, the action was incredible, and he'd been named Captain of his team. Something the American military had never offered him, despite his years of dedicated loyalty. But you know what they say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. He raised his hand to his head in salute, knowing that his superior didn't really give a damn for that kind of stuff, but he preferred to anyway. "Sir, we have their plane in site. They are approximately 2.5 miles from base."

The man merely nodded, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "Good." Came the deep reply. "Send out your team. Remember, I want them alive."

Captain Sensa saluted again and quickly walked out of the room. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. Not only to prove his worthiness to Sinister, but to also finally face the infamous X-men. This was a day to treasure for all life.

Sinister studied the buzzing command center about him. His plan was working beautifully. 

Scott blasted his way through the jammed door, careful not to shatter the door, for fear his fellow teammates may suffer the repercussions. The room contained no lights, and they could only see a few feet away from them. From what was visible, the room was in shambles. They were cautious not to stumble on the scattered debris strewn about the floor. The Beast grabbed the nearest flashlight and quickly scanned the area with it. From deep in the corner, they heard a low moan, and some movement among the debris. The Beast swung the light in its direction, only to see a grimacing Bishop staring back. The team rushed to his aid, but Bishop quickly held up a hand. 

"I think my leg's broken." He shoved a table off his leg to reveal what appeared to be a deep gash on his upper left thigh. The Beast crouched down beside the leg and inspected it carefully.

"I believe you are correct. It looks like a compound femoral fracture."

Rogue wrinkled up her nose. "Wha's that?"

"It's…bad. We need to splint this right now. Where's Gambit?" Beast looked around the room, trying to locate the missing mutant.

Bishop pointed directly across him. "Last I saw he was over there. He might not be there anymore. We got bounced around."

Beast looked back at him with a small smirk on his face. "So I see."

Rogue began throwing junk out of her way, desperately seeking any sign of Remy. She pushed a fallen cabinet off the floor, and there lying beneath it was a bloodied Gambit. "Ohmigod! Remy!" He lay on his side, his head on his outstretched arm, legs curled against his stomach. Rogue stooped down, and cradled his head in her gloved hand. "Jean?" She asked hopelessly.

Jean knelt down beside her and looked over Gambit. He had a nasty cut above his left eyebrow, which continually bled with every pulse. It didn't look life threatening though. "Remy," she quietly called his name. His eyelashes began to flutter, and his head turned ever so slightly to look at the one calling his name. "Rogue?" He croaked.

"Right here shugah." Rogue stroked his face tenderly. Suddenly, Remy's eyes darted wildly about, and he sat up painfully quick. A throbbing pain in his side flared up, causing him to wince. "Quoi? What happened?" He felt his head, and stared at the blood on his hand.

"We crashed hon." Gambit stared at her, slightly confused. Then he remembered. "Riiiiight. Where we be?"

Rogue sighed and looked about her. "Dunno. The jungle, somewhere. We got to get out a here, 'fore the smoke gets us."

Remy nodded absentmindedly and took the outstretched hand that was offered to him, care of Rogue. Gritting his teeth as he got up, the world around him suddenly swayed violently, causing him to grip the desk in front of him. 

"Y'all right shugah?" Rogue frowned in concern, knowing that Gambit obviously sustained some sort of injury.

For his part, Remy simply nodded his head, but dared not raise it.

A loud groan emulated from the corner. Bishop's face contorted with excruciating pain as the Beast attempted to splint his broken leg. Jean held Bishop's ankle, while Scott held Bishop himself. Hank was trying to move as quickly as possible, but the break was bad, and the equipment needed was not readily available. Working with what he had, and attempting to not cause Bishop any more pain than necessary, Hank pulled the last strap into place on the splint. It was temporary, but it would get the job done…For the time being at least. Bishop needed surgery, and it needed to be done soon.

Hank sat back to look over his work, and so did the others. Beast got up and began to look for some painkillers for Bishop. Scott stared at the mess around them. They had to leave, find some sort of shelter, hopefully contact the professor somehow. He rubbed his head, which was beginning to pound with the stress of leading a broken team. "Rogue, we're going to need you over here."

Rogue was still tending to Remy, who was slouched over the desk, his arm gripping his waist, and his head hung low. Rogue glanced at Bishop, then back at Remy, her heart feeling like it was being torn in two. Jean could see it in her eyes, and walked towards her. "Rogue, we need you to carry Bishop. I'll take care of Remy." Rogue nodded, then stooped down to take Bishop in her arms. 

"Heave Ho!" 

"All right people, we've got to get out of here. This smoke is getting worse every second." Scott warned.

The group shook their heads numbly, knowing that they were leaving their only source of safety for something much more dangerous. It would be the law of the jungle that prevailed now.

Charles stroked his chin absently, thinking every step over and over in his mind. "How long has it been since last contact?"

Bobby checked his watch. "About one hour and twenty minutes." His face was devoid of any humor now, and set with fearful eyes.

Charles shook his head, rubbing his weary eyes. The same thought kept running through his head, over and over like a broken record, "too long, too long."

"So what's the deal Chuck?" Wolverine slumped against the cold metal wall, an unlit cigar hanging limply in his n mouth. "Are we going in, or are we just going to wait?"

Charles momentarily stared at his feral pupil. "Patience, Logan. Have patience. We will move when the opportunity next arises."

"What opportunity bub? We're talking about Sinister. For all we know they may already be dead." 

Charles matched Wolverine's ferociousness with a calm all his own. "They aren't."

"Hey Bishop, y'ain't all that light, y' ever noticed?" Rogue attempted to shift Bishop in her arms, without causing him any pain. However, her good intentions made Bishop's face grimace.

"Rogue, has anyone ever mentioned that you like to talk a lot?"

Rogue tried a half-hearted shrug. "Touché."

Scott led the way, scanning the makeshift path for any unseen dangers that could arise. His wife Jean helped Gambit to stumble along. The usually talkative, cocky thief had not muttered a word since they left the plane. The Beast covered their backs, keeping his furry blue ears open for any sound other than the ones they themselves were creating.

"Aargh!" Rogue suddenly tripped, pitching forward with Bishop leading the way to the ground. He cried out in pain as his leg roughly fell beside his body. Scott ran back towards their direction.

"Rogue, what happened?"

Rogue pushed a stray piece of auburn hair out of her eyes with a gloved hand. Panting, she slowly rose to her feet. "I dunno. It was like, like ah lost ma powers."

"Oh crap." Jean muttered beneath her breath.

Scott glanced nervously around, then attempted to test out his powers. He focused his crimson eyes on a fallen tree sitting at his feet, but all that could be heard was a tiny crack, followed by a low fizzle. Everyone's shoulders drooped in frustration.

"Well," started the Beast, "isn't this a completely unprecedented turn of events. Quite convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"Hank, you aren't helping." Scott said.

"Please, oh fearless one, do tell us what would help?"

Scott spun around on his heel, surveying each angle of the jungle. "Chances are, we're being watched as we speak."

"So what? We're all just goin' ta stand around an' let 'em get us?" Rogue threw her hands in the air.

"No," Scott shook his head. "That's not it at all. We're going to fight."

Bishop let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. "In case you haven't noticed, Cyclops, we're not exactly in fighting condition." He motioned to his leg.

Feeling the same frustration and helplessness as everyone else, Scott sunk to a sitting position. Everyone else did the same. 

"They've stopped, sir." Captain Sensa pushed the tiny microphone on his headset closer to his mouth, so that Sinister might hear him speak.

"Stopped?" Sinister asked, with a hint of surprise.

"Ah, yes sir. They seem to be holding their position approximately 45 feet in front of us."

There was a long, pregnant pause as Sinister pondered this information. "Proceed with caution, Captain. The power-dampening field is up and running, but these X-Men are creative. Report all discrepancies directly to me."

"Maybe we could throw twigs at 'em or something." Rogue suggested. The normally active X-Men simply stared at the black earth beneath them, kicking the leaves every so often. Scott paced in front of them, twirling a blade of grass in his hand. He rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine approaching. 

"I wonder what's taking them so long." Jean thought aloud. Scott suddenly spun around to face her. 

"We can't think like this people! Look, we have to come up with something. This is Sinister we're talking about, not some run of the mill, small time crook."

"I ain't goin' wit Sinister." The group looked at Remy, who hadn't said a word up until now. His eyes never left the spot on the ground that he seemed fixated with. "Not again."

A look a sorrow passed over Rogue's face. She knew that Sinister used Remy quite a bit before he joined the X-Men, and although he never spoke about those days, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that they had been traumatizing nonetheless.

Scott nodded in agreement with Remy. "Then we move."

The others looked wearily at Cyclops. Hank, Scott, and Rogue stooped down to lift Bishop who groaned when the slightest pressure was placed on his injured leg. Jean offered a hand to Remy, who seemed to be in a different time zone.

"Oh my stars and garters!" Gasped Beast.

All eyes focused on their furry partner.

"Are those mangoes?"

"Logan," Ororo waited until her feral friend turned to face her before continuing. "Logan, I know this is frustrating, but this is not the way." She gestured to his motorcycle, which he was about to board.

"Look Ro, maybe it's all fine an' dandy for all of you to sit an' wait for news that you know and I know ain't coming, but I can't"

"I understand this friend. But I fear that you may put their lives in more danger by attempting to rescue them."

There was something in Ororo's voice which made Logan spun around to face her especially the way she held her calm gaze against his suspicious one. She was hiding something that he had been oblivious to. 

"What aren't you telling me 'Ro?"

Ororo's unemotional façade never left her face. "I've already told you more than I should have. But I beg you Logan, for our teammates' sake, please do not engage in a foolishness that could endanger them even further."

Logan dropped his stare, then shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about Storm. I was just going to go for a beer."

And with that, he leaped onto his Harley speeding away into the dusk, leaving a speechless Storm to her pondering.

The eerie unfamiliar sounds of the jungle kept everyone awake. Bishop groaned in his uncomfort, prompting a 'shhh' from Rogue, which in return came a glare from Bishop. Scott shook his head. This whole mission had gone from bad to worse. All X-Men sat back to back in a circle, alert for any movement or sound that might signal an attack. But for the entire day since the plane had crashed, they had not even seen a glimmer of Sinister or his forces. This kind of cat and mouse game did not sit well with Scott. And although he was a much calmer person than Wolverine who liked to get his fights over and done with, Scott couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.

When it seemed like he was ready to jump up and scream, a twig snapped. Everyone's head swung in the direction it came from. Jean held her breath while her husband reached for the large branch he had found on the hike. Bishop remained completely still, whereas Gambit's sensitive eyes scanned the darkness.

A sudden laser blast lit up the area to the left of the X-Men. Beast, Rogue, Cyclops, and Jean jumped to their feet, Beast and Rogue hastily trying to drag Bishop and Remy away from any line of fire. They could hear the running footsteps of soldiers coming towards them on all angles.

With Gambit's arm slung over her shoulder, Rogue turned to run in the opposite direction, but was met with a stunning slug to her nose. She fell back, feeling hot tears sting her eyes, and warm blood falling into her hand. Remy, seeing his woman being attacked by a man, exploded. Yelling something along the lines of "a—hole, die in hell" only in French, he threw every punch in the soldier's direction. Throwing the weight of his body onto the soldier's, the two tumbled to the ground, rolling and punching at the same time. A hard elbow to his temple momentarily made Gambit lose his balance, which was just enough time for the soldier to grab his rifle and ram it into Gambit's abdomen. The pain that he had been feeling since the plane crash had just gone nuclear. Doubled over on the jungle floor, Remy could do nothing more but clutch his stomach with his arms, and pray that he would pass out soon.

Scott swung his tree branch like he was making a grand slam. He slammed it into the stomach of one soldier, and right into the forehead of another. He figured he was doing pretty well, but neglected to notice the soldier with the blast rifle on his knees aiming for his chest. 

"Scott!" Scott spun in the direction of his wife's frantic cry, and suddenly felt a searing hot pain in his upper left arm. Crouching on the canopy floor, he inspected his arm, seeing a wide burn, already developing blisters. Jean was there in an instant, touching his face and looking over his arm to make sure nothing was life threatening. 

Time seemed to slow to a stand still for Jean, seeing her husband's obvious pain, and not even noticing the carnage around her. She was grabbed roughly by a soldier, and hefted underneath his massive arms, her light physique no match for his. Scott was hoisted up by two guards; too stunned by his injury to do anything but follow.

Bishop could do nothing more but sit and hold his hands in the air. The guards dragged him to a standing position, prompting a few nasty remarks from the huge warrior.

An unidentified soldier flew into a tree, his head connecting with such an impact, the helmet covering it cracked, and the soldier slowly slid to the ground unconscious. His attacker, the furry Beast, seemed to grin as he bounded towards the next soldier. He felt his feet tangling beneath him, stared wildly around him, and realized it was a cleverly thrown net.

"Keep that one covered!" Ordered Captain Sensa.

The soldier nodded to his Captain that he would, and accompanied by three others stooped down to hoist the captured Beast up.

"Sir, what about aaaaaa!" 

The Captain turned quickly to see what the soldier was screaming about. He nearly let out a chuckle when he saw that the blue furry one had the soldier's arm in his firmly clenched mouth. His expression soon turned fierce again. "Stop this goofing around and get on with it."

The soldier whimpered slightly, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. "Hope he didn't have rabies." He muttered to himself.

A smirking soldier offered his hand to the fallen Rogue, still holding her broken nose, glaring up at him. "Screw off." She growled, as she pushed herself up to her feet.

Gambit could feel someone lifting him up by his armpits, but would do nothing to help. He was lifted to his feet, where the pain was much more immense, and he nearly fell back down because of it. With a soldier on either arm, he stumbled painfully on into the night, his only concern of making it another step of the way.


	2. Part 2

"Remy?"

Through the hazy pain of darkness, Gambit could hear his name being softly called. With a groan that sounded like the dead awakening, he slowly opened his eyes, at first seeing only a blur of brown mixed with white and what looked like a human face. Blinking hard, he finally squinted enough to see the concerned face of Rogue peering down at him.

"You've been out for a while sugah. Thought mebbe you didn't wan' a wake up."

Remy flashed a devilish smile. "When it's yo' face I be lookin' at chere, you know I always be wakin' up."

Rogue smiled at his comment. He reached up to brush a piece of hair out of her face, Rogue at first backing her head away, then remembering she was with out powers, allowed him to touch her. She shivered slightly at his warm hand caressing her cheek, then settled into his touch. A sudden cough from Gambit broke the connection.

Hacking, and holding his stomach, Remy fought the pain that threatened to overcome him. Rogue held his head up, while tears stung his eyes. Finally relaxing, he glanced at his hand that covered his mouth. There was blood on it. Furrowing his brows, he looked up at Rogue, who was obviously worried. 

"Ah wish ol' Hank were here."

"Don' worry chere. I be alright."

Rogue just stared at him, then shifted her weight so that Remy's head was cradled in her lap. Content, Gambit felt his eyelids growing heavy, and finally let go into a peaceful sleep. Silently, Rogue prayed that it wasn't his last.

Inside her cell that she shared with Beast, the lovely Jean Summers paced furiously back and forth, like a trapped lioness, ready to pounce at her aggressors. Absentmindedly chewing on a fingernail, a habit most unusual for her, she went through every possible scenario that her husband might be going through.

"He is alive Jean. Don't ever doubt that."

Jean spun around, staring hard into the black orbs of Hank McCoy. 

"You don't understand, Hank. We have a connection." She pointed to her temple. "Here. And when we lose that connection, I feel like… like…"

"Like you've lost him?" Hank finished.

Sadly, Jean nodded. "I don't know what I'd do without him." She grasped the bars of her cell tightly; a grim look set deep on her face. A thought seemed to strike her, and concentrating deeply on it, she turned to eye Hank sharply. "What if it doesn't work?" She asked, so hushed it was almost a whisper. 

The Beast stared at the floor. "It will."

Jean crouched in front of him, clutching his chin in her hand, forcing him to look into her eyes. "But what if it doesn't?"

His silence was enough.

Scott struggled in his restraints, vainly trying to free himself somehow. His entire arm ached from the untreated burn, but he suppressed the pain with his ever-growing panic. Scott rarely panicked, except when Sinister was looming not so far away, with an evil grin on his face, and an even grimmer looking instrument in his hand.

"Well, well, Mr. Summers. Quite a predicament you're in, wouldn't you say?" Sinister gloated.

Scott stopped struggling long enough to glare at him. "Kiss my ass."

Sinister stood back laughing. "My, such strong words for a fearless leader. Tell me something old friend, do you suppose Jean would like you with or without your lungs?"

Scott's head shot up in horror. His struggles became frantic, as Sinister closed in on him, holding a large syringe, white teeth and eyes gleaming with obvious humor. The needle slid deep in his upper arm, prompting a surprised cry from Cyclops. Scott could feel the hot liquid sliding its way through his veins, propelled by the frantic beating of his heart. Gritting his teeth and attempting to focus his vision on one spot, the room took a violent sway. He closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that overtook him, forcing himself to take deep breaths before he would lose his cookies. 

Sinister looked thoughtfully at the empty syringe. "Hmm. Works pretty fast I'd say."

With determination, Scott looked at Sinister, but found nothing more than a blurred face that kept swaying back and forth. Finally, in one fluid motion, the breakfast that he'd been trying so hard to keep down, found its way back up. 

Staring at the vomit on the floor with disgust, Sinister motioned for his assistant. "See that Mr. Summers is cleaned up. And no food for that one."

"That's a one way ticket for Brazil Mr.?"

Logan looked up into the superficial smiling face of the young brunette on the other side of the desk. "Logan." He growled.

"Of course Mr. Logan. That will be eight hundred and fifty dollars please."

Logan nearly choked on the toothpick he was chewing on. Growling under his breath, he flipped through his wallet, searching for the right plastic.

"Logan."

Wolverine spun around at the mention of his name being called behind him. Professor Charles Xavier's calm façade evoked anger in Logan. "You look pretty relaxed for someone who may have lost his entire team, bub."

"I think that you may want to listen to me before you make any rash decisions Logan."

Wolverine bared his teeth at the Professor's suggestion. "Why, so you can just waste more time while the X-Men are out there dying?"

"Because Logan, it's not the X-Men who will be dying."

Wolverine's bushy eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion. "What are you saying?"

Xavier motioned for Logan to follow him. "Let's talk."

Bishop sat up suddenly on the gurney. He looked about him, heart racing, preparing for another possible fight. But there was no one there besides him. He realized then, that he was in one of Sinister's labs, and that he'd probably been under for quite some time. Curiously, he reached down to grasp the thin white blanket that covered his legs over top of his uniform. He peeked underneath, and with one hand, gingerly touched his injured leg. Nothing, no pain. He wiggled his toes inside his boot. No pain either. For the ultimate test, he bent his knee, brought it up to his chest, and relaxed it again. Bishop's head cocked to the side. It was odd. Even if there had been surgery done on his leg, there was no way that he should be able to move it this well, without any pain. An obvious idea sparked inside of his head. If he felt no pain, and he had full movement, then there was no reason why he couldn't get out of bed and walk away.

Just as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, a low swishing sound behind him caught his attention. Bishop sighed in defeat.

"Ah, Bishop. Good to see you're feeling up to the weather. How's the leg doing?"

Bishop glared at his captor. "Like it's ready to kick your ass."

Sinister flashed his fangs in a smile. "That's the spirit I wanted to hear. But it won't be my ass you'll be kicking."

Bishop's eyebrow went up in question. "Well you see Bishop, my men, -I think you know them well- they have been cooped up in this dreadful jungle for months. They need some entertainment, some fun, some…action. And I feel it is in my best interest to give my hard working soldiers whatever they require. And what they really want, is to fight an X-Man. Unfortunately, during the first confrontation, they weren't able to get a good match out of you, so I'm willing to give them a second chance with the Mutant from the Future."

Bishop growled under his breath. "So I really hope your leg is feeling better. Your match is at six o'clock."

"And if I don't fight?"

Sinister shrugged nonchalantly. "Then one of your teammates dies. You know Scott Summers is looking a little under the weather these days."

Bishop's hands clenched into fists.

"I knew you'd come to your senses."

"Remy!" Rogue frantically shook Gambit, trying to wake him up. His entire body shook with coughs, and with every cough came more blood.

Remy opened his eyes, then squinted them, clutching his stomach as he choked on the blood caught in the back of his throat. Rogue had her hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him. He groaned as more pain ripped through his abdomen.

"Rogue," he wheezed. "Rogue, I'm dying."

Terror filled her emerald eyes. "No, no you're not shugah. You jus' hang in there."

She ran to the cell bars, peering through them. "Hey! HEEEYYY! I need help in here! Somebody!"

She heard movement at the end of the hall, someone with large boots, maybe a couple of pairs. "Down here! Please!"

"Well, well. I never thought I would hear the day when Rogue begged me to come closer."

"Sinister." Rogue hissed.

"None other." He peered into the cell, seeing a crumpled Gambit, in obvious distress. "What seems to be the problem?" He smirked.

Rogue wanted to knock his block off. "You know what. Sinister you have ta help him. He's dying."

"Oh I can see that. But tell me, why should I?"

Rogue's face turned a cherry shade of red, as she desperately sought to control her anger. "Sinister, ah'm warnin' you…"

Sinister laughed. "Oh hush. You're hardly in a position to be warning me, young lady." He snapped his fingers at the two guards who flanked him. "But I wouldn't want to lose my greatest achievement, now would I?"

The two guards grabbed Remy, roughly hoisting him to his feet, partially dragging him out of the cell. Sinister gave a small laugh at Rogue's shocked face as he turned and walked out of the cell.

Rogue turned her attention to the remnants of Remy's blood splattered on the floor. "Oh gawd, what did he mean?"

The janitor mopped up the remaining vomit on the floor, feeling no signs of disgust. After working for ten years as an elementary school janitor, he was quite used to vomit although he wasn't quite used to it coming from the mouth of a known X-Man. He had to admit, this job was ten times more interesting than his old one. Except for the fact that he was still a janitor.

Just as he was about to replace his bucket for some clean water, a shiny object grabbed his attention. It was small, no larger than a quarter, but it looked like some sort of a cylinder. Curious, he picked it up, studying it. There seemed to be a tiny amount of blue liquid in it. Confused, he glanced up at the X-Man on the bed. To his reassurance, the mutant was out cold. The janitor quickly stuffed the capsule in his pocket and rushed out of the room.

One of Scott's eyes opened.

"It won't work." Logan's blunt comment set the tone for the meeting in the war room.

Professor Xavier smiled gently in reassurance at Wolverine. "Oh but it will."

Logan looked up at Charles, brown eyes burning like hot coals. "Why didn't you tell us? You put half the team at risk because of this little experiment of yours."

"Logan, we had to keep complete confidentiality about this. Any one else who knew could compromise the mission if interrogated." Ororo said. Her pale eyes silently begged his understanding.

Logan shot her a look of disbelief instead. "Jeez Ororo, this ain't Mission Impossible. You're startin' to sound like some damned secret agent. This ain't the way the X-Men are supposed to work."

"Sometimes Wolverine, in the midst of a war, you have to use the enemy's tactics against themselves." Charles reasoned.

"This ain't a war, bub!"

Xavier nodded. "But if we don't stop it now, it will be."

Bishop walked on his own, feeling no pain in his leg as he did so. Two guards flanked him, guns ready if he decided to make a run for it. But he wouldn't. Bishop knew his teammates lives were at stake if he didn't fight. No matter, he knew he was strong, especially adept at hand to hand combat. These people were used to an era were fighting wasn't necessary to get through the day, but he was. If a fight was what they wanted, then that's exactly what they would get. He knew the fire of hatred that pulsed in their veins was meant for a mutie's death, but hatred makes one clumsy. He on the other hand was much more focused.

He was led into a theatre of sorts, almost resembling a small coliseum. _Oh great, _he thought, _they want to see "Gladiator"_. Sure enough, sitting atop a throne, was the guest of honor, Sinister, fangs gleaming at the thought of blood.

On one side of the arena was a soldier, young enough to still be in college, but who had bulked up since he was young. He eyed Bishop with obvious hatred, not even a trace of fear at Bishop's massive frame. He hopped from foot to foot, warming up as a boxer might. Bishop merely flexed his muscles.

Sinister stood up, raising his hands for silence. "To the death."

A resounding cheer filled the arena, but Bishop was not one of them.

Sinister dropped his hands, a signal for the match to begin. The young soldier charged Bishop, who calmly side stepped him and brought his knee up into the soldier's abdomen. The kid fell the ground with a grunt. Point one to Bishop.

Jean glanced worriedly about her. "Beast, what time is it?"

Hank peered across the cell bars to the clock on the stark white wall. "Just about seven."

She wrapped her arms around her body as though she were cold. "God I hope this works."

Gambit's eyes fluttered open. He squinted against the bright light above him, taking a few moments to adjust to the light. He was on a gurney, oxygen mask covering his face. He was stripped of his uniform, wearing only a pair of white hospital pants. There was a thin blanket covering him, and a large bandage across his abdomen. There were no restraints on his wrists.

"_Dis is too easy_." He thought. He lifted the oxygen mask off his face and rubbed his eyes. Trying to lift himself up into a sitting position, he found the pain to be overwhelming, and instead opted to roll himself off the bed. A wave of nausea crept over him. Fighting to keep himself conscious, he balanced himself with one hand on the walls, the other on his stomach.

"Let's get dis over wit'." He groaned.

The match had gone well over half an hour, leaving both men bloodied, bruised, and noticeably exhausted. As hard as Bishop hit the kid, he refused to stay down. The young soldier's nose was broken, blood covering the lower half of his face. His ribs were broken in two different places, making his walk a more staggered effort. Bishop had a deep tear on his right knuckles, which made every punch an agonizing procedure. His left eye was swelling up, and he was starting to walk with a limp. Still, he relatively felt fine. 

Sinister took in the entire proceedings with a gleeful delight. It wasn't very often that he was able to truly study his specimens in a fighting situation. And Bishop was certainly a specimen to behold. Sinister had very few records on the mutant, but now he was getting spectacular results up close. The man could hold himself in a cyborg like manner, calm yet ruthless, more than likely the result of an extremely harsh childhood. What this mutant could do for Sinister's cause. He was just about to explore the possibilities in his mind, when a tap on his shoulder disrupted him.

He turned to face whoever it was, with more than a little annoyance. It was the janitor, of all people.

"Yes," he leaned in to look closer at the man's nametag. "Herman."

Herman straightened himself to look taller in Sinister's presence. "I found this on the floor, beside the mutie's bed." He opened his hand to reveal the capsule.

Sinister squinted to get a better look. Taking it between his thumb and forefinger, he held it up to the light, not that it was any help. Curiosity spurred within him.

A loud roar from the crowd made him jump suddenly, and the capsule seemed to burst between his fingers. A tiny amount of blue liquid seeped out into his hand. Sinister turned his attention to the arena below him. The soldier was face down on the ground, unconscious. Bishop stood towering above him, victorious. Sinister nodded to Captain Sensa, who handed Bishop a knife.

"Finish him." Sensa growled to Bishop.

Defiant, Bishop threw the knife to the ground. Sensa backhanded him. A small smile crept across Bishop's face, as he stroked his jaw where Sensa had made his mark. Sensa looked up to Sinister for a command.

Sinister stared at the liquid in question. Absently, he waved his hand to Sensa, not even bothering to watch the approaching finale. He rose from his throne, still staring at his hand, and left the arena.

Sensa picked up the knife, and to Bishop's horror, slit the throat of the young soldier.

Scott ran from room to room, peering in each one for a few seconds, hiding whenever he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He ducked behind a corridor as he heard some now. But these weren't boots that he heard; it was more the slapping of bare feet. He peeked around the corner to see Gambit, half-naked trying to jog. Scott ran up to the injured thief. 

"Are you okay?"

Gambit seemed to be out of breath, but he nodded. "Can't find Rogue."

Scott looked about them. "I haven't had much luck finding anyone either. We have to hurry." Scott offered a hand to Gambit, who reluctantly took it. Throwing one of Gambit's arms around his shoulders, Cyclops led them down a hallway.

Gambit pointed to an open door. "I tink I 'member dat one."

The two entered the bright white room, and saw a cell at one end. They rushed towards it, seeing the familiar white-gloved hands of Rogue clutching the bars.

"Remy!" She exclaimed. "Are y'all alright?"

"We're okay." Scott answered for both of them. He opened the cage door, where an exuberant Rogue embraced Remy.

"Easy chere." Gambit pointed to his stomach.

Slightly embarrassed, Rogue cut her hug short, muttering an apology. "Ah forgot."

"Come on guys." Scott motioned for the door. "We don't have much time."

Rogue eyed him carefully. "What's goin' on Scott?"

"Nothing. But while we're standing around here chatting, who knows what's happening to our teammates."

Rogue and Remy nodded simultaneously, as Rogue took over Scott's duties, slinging Gambit's arm over her shoulder.

The roar of engines coming to life slightly shook the grounds of Xavier's humble mansion. Storm, Wolverine, Bobby, Warren, and the Professor piled into the small reserve jet.

"Ow, get off my hand Warren!"

"Shove over whiner!"

Logan turned around violently and roared. "Both of you shut the hell up!"

Charles kept his eyes on the controls. "You certainly have a way with people Logan."

"I learned from the best." He growled.

"This wasn't part of the original plans." Storm commented.

"Yeah well, look how good that plan worked. We're gonna do things my way for a bit."

Ororo studied her feral friend. She had always known of Wolverine's die hard loyalty to those he cared for, but rarely did he have this kind of passion. She was honored to be at his side.

"Keep your knickers on people, only a couple of hours till we're there."

Bobby exhaled deeply. They were headed for the killing fields.

TO BE CONTINUED….


	3. Part 3

"Ow."

Rogue shifted Remy's weight on her shoulder as slightly as she could. "Sorry shugah."

Scott turned around and motioned for the two to be quiet. Peering around the corner, Scott crept in as silently as his boots would allow him. He held up his hand as a sign for Rogue and Gambit not to follow him inside the room. Tip toeing across the room, he came to a cell that looked identical to the one Rogue was in. Peeking in, he saw a pondering Beast, staring at the floor as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen and a nervous Jean with her back to him. 

"Hey slackers."

Jean spun around, jumping off the floor and running to the cell door. Beast slowly got up, brushing his furry behind off as he did so. "Well, fearless leader, how's the shoulder?"

Cyclops glanced at his injured shoulder, having completely forgotten about it for some time. "Fine, I guess. How are you two?"

Jean's face beamed at her husband. "Ten times better knowing that you're alright."

"Awww." Rogue sighed sarcastically. "How's about you love birds quit cooin' an' get us all outa here."

Scott nodded and punched the release button for the cell door. Jean exuberantly hugged him; Scott took a moment to touch her cheek in pure affection. Jean leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Did it work?"

Scott's face turned grim, instead of answering, he grasped her hand and led her away from the cell. 

From across the room, Remy eyed the pair suspiciously.

"What's our E.T.A. Ice?"

Bobby checked the controls on the panel to the left of him. "I got 7 minutes from our drop off point."

Wolverine nodded. Ferocity sparked in his eyes, one that was unlike his usual fierceness. Charles took note of it, as he had been studying Wolverine these past few days. Logan always assumed a non-leadership role, preferring to remain in the rear, doing things his style, the way he saw fit. He shrugged off responsibility like an old sweatshirt, yet for some inexplicable reason; he took this unfortunate incident to show off his leadership skills.

Mind you, everyone seemed to have surprises up their sleeves.

"Saddle up folks. We're ditchin' this joint." He turned to the Professor, a smirk forming on his face. "You wanna come with us, bub?"

A sly smile returned Logan's. "Sadly no. I'm your escape route, in case you've forgotten."

"Just be on time Chuck."

"Always."

Wolverine readied his parachute, while Ororo studied him in her usual calm demeanor. Angel was the first to go, ruffling his feathers before he gracefully dove towards the earth. The air crackled as its molecules began to form themselves into a giant ice sled, of which Iceman whooped his way down. A gust of wind carried Storm out the door of the plane, propelling her to the compound. Just before Wolverine was about to jump, Charles stopped him. 

"Logan," Logan stared at Charles questioningly. "Bring them home."

Wolverine nodded, then jumped.

The five X-Men loped down the corridors of the stark white facility that had held them captive unsuccessfully, their soft-soled boots barely making a sound on the harsh metal floors. Gambit held a hand up, silently asking for a quick breather. The short jaunt took his breath away, which in his condition didn't take long. Rogue steadied him up against a wall, while Beast placed a furry paw on his forehead, checking his temperature. 

The lights in the corridor flickered.

"Y'all right shugah?"

Remy nodded, and smiled, cupping a hand to her cheek. His eyes suddenly took on a grave look, as his face lost any color that it might have had. Knees buckling beneath him, his body went limp and fell to the floor, to the horror of Rogue.

"Remy!" She reached down to grasp him, when a funny feeling began in her hands, kind of a tingling sensation, almost like her fingertips were charging… "Uh-oh." Then she thought about it. Jumping to her feet, she stared at her hands, and noticed they were distinctly taking on an orange glow.

"Wahoo! Ah got ma powers back!" She looked down at the passed out Gambit, still slumped against the wall, Beast keeping tracking of his vitals. "Oh, Remy!"

" I think he's okay, Rogue. He's in need of some rest as it is." Beast drew Gambit into his massive arms, being careful not disturb the thief's peaceful sleep.

The lights flickered again, then completely went out. The X-Men held their breath, suspended in the darkness. "What's going on?" Jean asked.

A large click was heard, then the slow and steady hum of a back up generator kicked in. Emergency lights shone a dull red, encased behind their metal cages. 

"Power outage. That's probably why we've got our powers back." Scott answered. He grasped his wife's arm, leading her in front of him while he kept a sharp look out for any unforeseen danger. The rest of the X-Men proceeded in orderly fashion, taking their steps with a slow cautious rhythm. A sudden shout of alarm alerted the X-Men to switch their focus on a group of soldiers in one of the corridors ahead of them. Instead of searching out cover, they watched in curiosity, as the soldiers had obviously not seen them. The dull thud of a punch landing on its fleshy target resounded through the halls, along with the surprised cry of the one receiving the punch. Scott flinched unconsciously, as if the sound itself could invoke pain. As the soldier hit the ground, the same time rubbing his aching jaw, it was now apparent whom the guards were struggling with.

"Bishop," Jean whispered, the slightest hint of joy in her voice.

Cyclop's optic beam crackled as it soared through the hallway in a blinding flash of red, hitting one poor soul square in his back, effectively knocking the wind out of him. The remaining two guards momentarily forgot about their captive, and turned their attention towards this new threat. It was a mistake that Bishop capitalized on. Bishop shot his hand out and grabbed the shaft of a rifle, still in one soldier's hand, and swung both the rifle and the owner off his feet, and straight into the last soldier. He stumbled forward, slightly dazed and came face to fist with Rogue, which was the last image he'd see for a long time. Bishop made short work of the other.

"Good to see y'all in one piece, Bishop."

"And you, Rogue."

Cyclops came loping up beside the two. "Let's get going gang. I think this may be our only window of opportunity."

Wolverine sniffed the air.

"Smell good Logan?" Bobby whispered.

Wolverine gave him a sideways glance and growled. "Shut up Ice. I think I got something."

Ororo placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Who is it?"

Logan sniffed the air again. "Smells a little like, cajun." Logan turned to face Storm, whose smile revealed the deepest relief. But there was something, a different smell…

"Storm!"

Storm's face contorted in agony, as a bright orange blast of laser hit her high in the shoulder blade. Logan caught her before she fell, already unconscious from the shock. Logan quickly handed her to Angel, instructing him to get her to safety. Storm's assailant was already high-tailing it down the opposite direction. Wolverine growled.

"Bobby, keep going. They're over there somewhere."

Iceman looked unsure about the situation. "Where are you going?"

The sharp, distinct sound of metal sheers slicing their way to the surface of Wolverine's skin sent a cold tingle down Bobby's spine. "Goin' to get me some chop suey."

Angel crouched in a darkened crevice; the unconscious Storm cradled in his arms. He looked about nervously, knowing that in this situation he was a sitting duck. He peered down at the dark beauty, and swept a wisp of stark white hair away from her face. A soft, feminine moan escaped her full lips.

"Hey Storm." Warren whispered, knowing full well that Storm couldn't hear him, but it was comforting to him at least. He shifted so that her head fell closer to his chest, and could now feel the hot, almost perfumed breath against his cheek. He found himself taken by this unbelievably kind, noble warrior, truly a goddess in her own right, but now so vulnerable. His head felt heavy, his lips almost drawn to hers, coming closer….

And stopped. He quickly shook the thought out of his head.

"Nope. Logan would kill me."

"I am Henry the eighth I am, Henry the eighth I am I am…" Bobby hummed the most annoying song he could think up. The normally hotheaded youth was feeling extremely uneasy right now. Although he would never admit aloud, he secretly hated being alone, and singing, even if it was Henry the eighth, was still better than the eerie silence of a military base. Especially when they had guns, laser ones, and there were many more of them than him. Because he was all alone, of course.

"I am Henry the eighth I am…"

"_Henry the eighth I am I am" _

He stopped, as someone else was finishing the lines in his head for him. A woman.

_"Hey Bobby."_

"Jean!" He yelled aloud, then quickly covered his mouth realizing that he was still trying to evade soldiers, not attract them.

His fellow X-Men rounded the corner, a beaming Jean that made Bobby's heart glow just from the sight of her.

"You still can't carry a tune, Ice."

He grinned sheepishly. "Hey guys, we've got an escape plan."

Scott looked in with interest. "What's the plan?"

"Okay, Storm knocked out the power with one of her electrical surges, but we don't know how much longer the power will be out for, so we've got to hurry."

Jean's eyebrows creased in confusion. "Where's Storm?"

A look of pure concern clouded Bobby's face. "She got hit, but don't worry, Angel's got her, she's okay. The prof is out in the jet, he's trying to avoid the radar until we can get it off."

"How?" Rogue asked.

"Well, Remy can take care of that." Bobby shrugged.

"Uhhh…" Beast motioned to the person lying unconscious in his arms.

"Oh. Well then, maybe we can just run like hell."

The X-Men's jaws dropped. "Bobby, that's our escape plan?" Cyclops' voice was incredulous. "Who the hell came up with that?"

"Wolverine."

Scott nodded assuredly, as if the answer somehow explained all the bad luck they'd been having so far. "And where is he?"

"He went off chasing the guy who shot Storm."

Sensa struggled to control his hard breathing, wanting his chaser not to be able to get the upper hand on him. He was closing in on his goal, just inches away from entering the black arena, his arena for the final act.

Some called mutation a natural way of life, that it was survival of the fittest, evolution. Evolution. The word was an abomination to him. Evolution was a crock to him. Adaptation, that was what made sense. Humans adapted to their surroundings, but what had mutants adapted to? They were a mistake, pure and simple, like the child born with an extra toe, a bird with a crooked beak. It was not evolution, for evolution took thousands of years to mold, no, these new breeds of humanoids were like a virus, multiplying until they would choke out the pure, the perfect ones, ourselves. And now he would prove it. The prey would finally become the predator. That word, that was a word that invoked pride in him.

Predator.

He readied his sword, fashioned from a new resource, adamantium.

"Here kitty, kitty."

"Boo."

The voice was behind him, he swung as reflexes took over, bringing the sword down in an arc, but finding it striking something strong and rigid. Struggling to free his sword, he realized that it had not hit something, but was caught between something, three blades, shorter than his sword, but attached to a hand.

"'Bout time you showed up Wolverine."

Logan smirked at the remark. "Don't remember introducing myself to you bub."

Sensa opened his mouth to reply, but Logan spoke before he could. "Don't care to know ya either."

Slightly offended, but nonetheless assured of his mission, Sensa dropped to the floor, freeing his sword at the same time. Spinning with martial quickness, he brought his sword back up, nearly slicing his opponent's shoulder. Logan counter-acted, bringing his right hand with it's blades up into Sensa's face, inches from his eye. Sensa backed, spun, swinging his sword towards Logan's back. Logan dropped, swiping out his left leg, tripping Sensa. Sensa did not stay down, he was back on his feet, swinging wildly, and now on the offensive.

Angel's wings pumped fluidly against the damp air of the jungle night, the stars and moon the only light to guide his way. Storm's dead weight slowed his ascent, but only slightly. The jet was now in sight, and he was sure the professor could sense him. The hatch opened on its own, Angel gliding gracefully in, putting Storm down on the closest seat, as gently as he could. He looked up.

The professor was staring at Storm, the most unbelievable look of sadness in his eyes.

"Where are you Charles?"

Sinister stared out into his lush world, a world he was about to abandon.

"Sir, the automated self-destruct has been enabled." 

Sinister nodded absently, hand stroking his chin. He smiled. "The battle is not nearly yet over, Charles. But I'll let you have this one. Checkmate."

There was a sensation, something cold, fluid, from his ear. He put a hand up to his left ear, touched the fluid, and brought it to his eyes. 

It was blood.

Both men were drenched in sweat, eyes glaring with fire; teeth set in grim smiles.

"Give it up boy." Wolverine taunted.

The phrase infuriated Sensa. With strength that was not only unexpected to both Wolverine and Sensa, he pushed Logan right off his feet and into the dirt. "Don't you dare look down on me, freak." He spat the words at Logan, putting extra emphasis on 'freak'. "I'm a human, not an abomination."

He brought the sword up high in the air, above his head preparing to swing it down in its final motion, right for the skull of Wolverine. But he never got the chance. 

A look of pure surprise and shock, his mouth dropped, knees crumbling beneath him, but somehow he still managed to look at the one blade that had impaled him, care of Wolverine. The middle blade, with streams of bloods trickling down the shaft of the blade, his blood.

Wolverine retracted his blade, and immediately Sensa slumped to the dirt, eyes still wide with shock, dirt sticking to the saliva at the side of his mouth.

"Guess it depends on yer point of view."

EPILOGUE

The soft hum of fluorescent lights, the insistent beeping of a heart monitor. Charles came into the medbay, shoulders sagging, as though he were atlas with the world on his shoulders. In a way it was.

Beast turned, his wire rimmed glasses perched so precariously atop his furry face it would almost seem comical on any other day but this. Henry grunted his greeting, far too involved with his research for a proper acknowledgement. Charles took no offense however.

He smiled sadly at the young man who lay motionless on the bed; muscular arm imbedded with a tube, oxygen being delivered via nasal mask. He grasped Gambit's shoulder, a moment that seemed fatherly.

Remy opened his eyes, and blinked before he was able to see properly.

"Prof." He managed to croak.

"Hello Remy. Henry says that you will be able to leave here in a couple of days. We caught the internal bleeding just in time." 

Gambit nodded carelessly, thoughts of mortality meant nothing to him, just as long as he could get out of this damn bed, and soon.

"How's Stormy?"

"I heard that!"

The voice she reserved for whenever Remy referred to her in that name she hated most, was the one she used now. Remy strained to see her form, which was sitting up in bed, reading some sort of novel, her entire left arm and shoulder encased in padding and held together in a sling, but looking well nevertheless.

Gambit smiled in relief.

"Well, now that I'm reassured of your health Remy, I'm sure that you'll be excited to know that Rogue plans on cooking you breakfast the second you're out of here."

He groaned.

Charles patted him one more time on the arm, and turned to leave.

"Professor?"

Charles turned to face him once more, but the elusive thief had his eyes permanently set on the ceiling above him. 

"Yes, Remy."

"Sinister goin' ta die?"

This caught both Henry and Storm's attention. Charles kept his hard eye contact with Remy's face; Remy's eyes kept their unwavering contact with the ceiling. Xavier could almost swear that he saw Remy's eyes begin to water.

"Yes."

Gambit nodded. "Good."

Almost.

THE END


End file.
